Home
by SenpaiKohaiDanna
Summary: Logan has lived in solitude for many years, possibly more than he can remember, but his seclusion is thrown on its ass when two mutant children are dumped into his lap. Without many choices left and a small desert feeling of loneliness, Logan takes them under his claw. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**FROM THE AUTHOR:**

**Hello all, Tobi has returned with a new story to write for you. Tobi is currently working on chapter four of this new one, meaning there are already two other chapters written, but they are waiting to be beta'd. Tobi can't promise when he'll update, but he's hoping at least once a week, but don't hold him to that. At first he wasn't even going to post until he finished writing the entire story, but Tobi also knew that he would be going into a hard semester this year at school and would need motivation to continue. So Tobi is hoping for some reviews to keep the writing flow going.**

**Tobi said in the summary that there will be two mutants kids, but in the description there is only one name other than Logan's. This is because Tobi wants you to wonder who the other mutant will be, not that the second one will be more mind blowing than the first, he just wants your curiosity to churn while reading in hopes you'll continue to follow to see who the other mutant is. He wasn't going to put any one's name but Logan's at first, but after reading the first chapter it will be obvious who the first mutant child is going to be.**

**ABOUT THE STORY: **

**It's AU guys! It's going to be a combination of the comics and the movies, but more so movies than comics. Only characters and some minor facts from the comics will be used, which is why I put this under regular and not crossover.**

**I'm also planning on two more sequels. The first two stories in my series are family oriented and the last one more along the lines of action/plot/romance type thing.**

**That's all for now, enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned X-men movies I wouldn't be writing fan-fictions. Let's just put it that way.**

* * *

The country of Ireland was worth visiting, but what made the trip worthwhile by far was their beer, which was impressively fermented to perfection. Logan grunted a "thanks "as he was handed another glass of the golden liquid, giving a good sip before placing it back on the bar. It was good enough that he'd considered staying, that is if he ever actually intended on having plans of staying anywhere long term.

The mutant wasn't much of a settler. Nothing ever seemed to draw his attention long enough to stick to one spot; he never really felt he _fit_ anywhere, and why would he? He had 12 inch metal claws and a surly attitude—who the fuck wanted him? Jim Bob definitely wouldn't be inviting him to any neighborhood barbeques anytime soon. Plus he was never one for schmoozing and socializing with others, mutant or not. So far both had tried to kill him, so what did he need the company of others for? All it brought was heartache and disappointment, so he was better off on his own.

Still…

It was human nature to want to belong somewhere, to need to belong somewhere, but that's just it. He wanted to belong, but he has no idea where that place is. Logan doesn't know; he can't remember anything before waking up twenty years ago in what looked like some abandoned plant. The only thing connecting him to his forgotten past was a dog tag, some wiry kid with red hair claiming to know him, and a dead chick. Logan's grip slowly tightened around the mug of beer, anger surfacing at the memory.

_Who was she?_ Logan thought, not for the first time in so many years. _I knew her_. He did, he was sure of it. A feeling deep in him curled upon seeing her face, a sense of recognition, an instinct; something he's come to rely on quite heavily since his awakening. He knew her, he was sure of it, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember. Nothing came to mind when he tried to think of the distant past and as the years dragged on, it was beginning to seem like he never would.

_Until three months ago_.

The thought slowly brought him back to reality, background noise of the pub returning to focus as he remembered why he was here in Ireland in the first place. He was looking for something; his best clue to unlocking his past and he'd been traipsing around the world following it.

Logan sniffed the stuffy, mildewed air inside the building; smells of alcohol, cheese, cologne, and sweat wafted through his nostrils before a small, irritated grunt left his throat. Nothing. He couldn't catch the scent through all the other dominating odors, but he knew it was here. Logan had followed the scent right into the tiny pub, but there were too many people inside to point out its origin ...which was why, above all else, he hated crowds. He decided to stay waiting at the bar, as close to the door as possible, so that if the scent left, he'd know about it.

Logan returned his attention back to his drink, the noisy chatter of the pub beginning to collectively pick up, as a mixed smell of excitement and confusion began to fill the room. This usually meant a common topic for everyone in the general area was being discussed, and it seemed to stem from the televisions that were selectively spaced on the walls. Curious, the mutant looked up from his glass to view the television directly over the bar. On it was an aerial view of a castle encased in flames, the same image that was on every screen. The estate surrounding the burning building was closed off with yellow tape, swarmed with the local police force, a few fire trucks, and a couple of ambulances. A banner scrolled across the bottom of the TV, **"CASSIDY KEEP MASSACRE [CASE CLOSED]"**. Then the image minimized into the upper left-hand corner of the screen to present a raven haired reporter seated at a desk.

"This is the scene that greeted us in the late evening of November 17th, almost three weeks ago." She spoke in the neutral tone that was a seal stamp of all anchormen. "The beloved doctor and CEO of Cassidy Medical Industries, Casey Cassidy, and his wife, Eileen Cassidy, were found dead in the esteemed home along with all the employees and attendants that worked and lived in the home."

"Upon first inspection, authorities suspected that Mr. Cassidy, who had become desperate since his unforeseen corporate bankruptcy a year ago, had been at fault for the crime after finding his body with a suicide note stating only '_I couldn't allow my family to live in despair_'. Later it was discovered that it was a framed suicide, which then begged the question who and why?" The footage of the burning castle filled the screen again and switched to one of a middle thirty year-old man with brown hair being led away into a cop car, the name Patrick Rourke appeared on the banner below; the female anchor could now be heard as a voiceover.

"Patrick Rourke, CFO and best friend to the late Cassidys, has been found responsible. After five intense days of investigation Rourke came clean stating that he wanted revenge for what Casey had done to him. If you remember Rourke's wife, Claire, had died in childbirth; the baby girl, who was to be named Maeve, died along with her mother. As it turns out, Claire Rourke had been gravely ill upon notice of her pregnancy and went to Mr. Cassidy for help. In the end his attempts to help had failed."

The image disappeared from the screen altogether, leaving the face of the raven-haired reporter in clear view as she continued. "Using his position as Chief Financial Officer, Rourke set about sabotaging Cassidy funding, forcing the prestigious doctor to use his own inherited fortune in a desperate move to save his company, and leaving the Cassidys nearly broke."

"Unaware of the change in their relationship, Casey Cassidy called Mr. Rourke over to his home in order to discuss his funds and a possible comeback. During this secluded meeting, Rourke struck, taking the lives of the Cassidys and the castle employees. For his crimes, Rourke has been sentenced to sixteen years in prison."

"Although the investigation has been wrapped up, officials are still unsure about what happened to the now 4 year-old heir, Sean Cassidy." Footage of Cassidy Keep before the attack filled the screen, hundreds of people on the front lawn looking to the nearest balcony. On it was a man with carrot orange hair and a blonde haired woman with a child perched on her hip. The couple, assumed to be the late Cassidys, were waving out to the crowd of people below.

"The child was last seen publically two years ago on March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, to celebrate his birthday." The camera zoomed in on the face of the boy, making it obvious that he was definitely the son of Casey Cassidy; his curly carrot-red hair curled subtly around his chubby face, which was peppered with freckles. The screen then showed the face of a dark haired youth talking to the press in front of a Catholic Church. "After weeks of searching and investigating, officers have presumed the young heir dead, having possibly burned in the fire. This leaves Thomas Samuel Eamon Cassidy, Sean Cassidy's 18 year-old cousin, the sole heir to the Cassidy estate and funds." Tom disappeared from the screen and the reporter returns full-screen with another anchorman next to her.

Logan tuned the rest of it out, giving his mug of beer his full attention; the whole thing seemed like some damn soap opera; he humphed and took a swig of his drink. The recluse mutant had hoped that at least leaving home would get him away from all the goddamn drama. _Guess drama's everywhere_, he mused. It made sense anyhow. People are the same wherever you go — nothing's really different, _just the language and scenery that surrounds them_.

"Rourke may be _an aul git_, but I betcha the laddie's da is responsible for the boy's disappearance."

Logan lifted an eyebrow as a conversation from a nearby table drifted into his ears. An overweight male with a cigar sticking from his teeth was talking to an equally obese woman. The pair seemed to be near the same age, late fifties, and likely married.

"What ye mean, Finny?" The wife asked with a tone that suggested she already knew.

"I _mean_," Finny continued, dabbing out is cigar into his empty bread plate, his wife rolling her eyes in preparation for the absurd. "Mr. Cassidy rid _himself_ o' little ole Sean."

Apparently, even after knowing her husband was going to say something crazy it didn't stop the surprise and denial of his claims outright.

"Come now, Bridged, ye know I'm right."

"Ye expect me to believe Casey Cassidy killed 'is son!" Evidently not.

Finny took a sip of beer. "Bridged, think about it, we all knew Cassidy had started his…_downward spiral_—" He swirled his right index finger around his temple to imply what exactly he meant by his choice phrasing, "— long before his bankruptcy. There are signs before a corporate turns on its belly like that, like a year 'o signs. He knew he was heading to a dead end and it slowly drove 'em loony. What the news forgot to mention was that these signs started three months after the little lads second birthday…" The man gave his wife a conspiratory look, she responded with a weary sigh. "Notice we ain't seen the boy or 'is ma at all during the fall? They'd been witnesses to 'is lost on reality, until he finally went mad."

"Using his funds as a last resort was just the first time the public saw 'is insanity rearin' its ugly head." He finished off his beer and then lit another cigar as if to say '_case-in-point'_.

Bridged shook her head in disbelief. "_Ballix!_ I don't believe a word, and it still don't explain why he'd kill 'is son."

Finny took a long drag of his cigar before leaning back and letting out a long breath of smoke. "Now _that_ is the real mystery."

His wife just shook her head, possibly trying to figure out how she ended up married the man. Logan pitied her.

"Rubbish, all of it utter rubbish…"

Before Logan could hear Finny grant Bridget the honor of knowing exactly why it _wasn't_ rubbish, his heart slowed to a steady thrum. The world around faded into nothing, and a low growl escaped his throat, his instincts taking the helm.

_The scent_.

It smelt salty, bitter, feral and held a hint of arrogance—like a pussycat—but above all he recognized it, he just couldn't think of where—

Suddenly, as it had been happening every time he caught a whiff of the aroma, there were pictures, flashes of images. There were people and places, leaving him with a distinct feeling that they were familiar to him. He knew them, just as sure as he knew that girl.

One image of an old Gothic styled house grew to full scale, taking over his vision. The colors were of grey and black with the backdrop of people, two men, a woman, and a boy about his age.

"_Stay where you are James!"_

"_I told you never to come back here!"_

"_We're brothers, Jimmy."_

The scene changed to one outside, and he and the boy were older, but it was still dark outside.

"_We didn't sign up for this."_

"_Who do you think you are? This is what we do!"_

"_I'm done."_

"_We can't just let you walk away!"_

_Logan rips off his dog tags and walks away._

"_Jimmy!"_

It stopped as suddenly as it came. Logan took a moment to gather himself_, Jimmy?_ Before he could follow that train of thought, an instinct told him something was off.

The pub was dead silent.

Logan sat up to find every eye in the joint focused on him, including the bickering couple from earlier. A hand fell on his shoulder; he followed the length of its arm to find the bartender attached to it, giving him an awfully concerned look.

"Ye okay, lad?"

The dark hair mutant gave a grunt before quickly standing. "Fantastic."

He shoved what he suspected to be the right amount of exchange for his drinks, and then briskly left. He had to catch up to the scent. He darted out into the cold Irish night, his shoes making a soft _pat-pat_ sound as they pounded against the cobbled streets of County Mayo, his path lit by the luminescent, bulb streetlamps. There was nothing in sight that could be in connection with the smell, so he stopped and traced the scent again. He lifted his head and closed his eyes, putting his focus into his sense of smell, and sniffed.

_There_.

Logan's eyes flew open and narrowed, his mouth pulled into a snarl as he headed in the direction of the scent, making a couple of turns along the way. _Up there!_ Further up the street he caught sight of a figure in a long brown overcoat, moving with such precision that Logan was sure whatever he was chasing definitely wasn't human.

Logan yelled after him. "Hey, you! Stop!"

Nothing. It just kept speeding in its designated course. As the Wolverine attempted to catch up, he noticed the pattern of his target's movements were familiar. He has definitely seen that before, in fact…Logan darted through a few buildings, heading towards the woodlands just beyond the city to cut him off. If he was correct, the cloaked figure would come this way and he would have the jump on him.

Unless, of course, he was completely wrong and the figure would come from behind to give him a good knock in the head. Logan fell forward on his knees, grabbing at the back of his head in pain. Had he been anybody else the hit would have knocked him out cold, but lucky for him he had a skeleton system made of a very sturdy metal.

"He definitely ain't human…" Logan mumbled to himself.

Anyone who hit him that hard should have broken their hand upon impact.

Logan got up to catch a glimpse of his attacker, yet all he saw was a shadow disappear behind some bushes. _Dammit!_ He couldn't lose him. He flew through the bushes, desperate to catch up, but as soon as he got through he found himself alone in a clearing. He sniffed, no one but him and the trees.

The wolverine let out an angry roar and slashed the trunk of a nearby tree with his claws. There was a scent, but it was faint and the chase had only led him back to where he had started, following breadcrumbs. Logan sighed and headed back towards town. He needed sleep if he was going to spend all day tomorrow smelling random objects to pick up a trace of the scent. _Damn_, he thought, _I had him!_ He had been so close, as it was the first time the scent had been so tangible before, yet, it seemed, so far away from getting answers.

As he reached the edges of the city, his sensitive hearing picked up some rustling in the nearby bushes. Acting fast, Logan ducked behind a tree to catch the cloaked figure by surprise, but after taking a sniff he realized it wasn't the scent. Logan was about to step out of his hiding place, figuring it was some animal, when a small child crawled from the underbrush. The dark haired mutant watched, eyes focused on the small form.

From this distance, Logan could make out the short curly hair that bounced on the kid's head. The kid moved slowly towards the garbage cans that littered the edge of town, looking over his shoulder and pausing at every small noise before continuing his course. After approaching the closest tin can, standing up on his tiptoes to reach it, he pulled an empty soda can out and turned it upside down. When nothing came out, he threw it away. He reached in again only to find a crumpled up newspaper that was quickly tossed to the side before he reached into the trashcan again. It went on like that, him pulling out random objects and checking their worth before they were tossed aside, until finally his hand came upon a half-eaten burger. Upon this discovery, the child hurriedly sat on the ground and began tearing the food in to small tiny pieces, which he then stuck into his mouth.

Now Logan had seen it all.

He has been assaulted on all sides by people trying to kill his spirit, or turn him into something he's not. He's seen people lose their minds and get put away never to have common interaction again. He has seen the homeless, starving and lost till the point they barely had a grip on humanity, just breathing bodies littered over the streets.

Never. _Never_ has he seen a child struggle to eat on its own.

He thought the kid was just out past his bedtime and decided to muck around in the garbage like kids tend to do when they think no one is watching, but no. This child was hungry and doing the only thing it could to feed itself—to survive.

A feeling of disgust at having witnessed something like this swelled in his stomach, along with a small twinge of protectiveness. Despite his own situation, he couldn't just turn a blind eye and walk away; he decided to help the poor kid.

He tentively stepped out of his hiding place to avoid startling the child, which he swiftly found out had been a great idea because not five seconds after moving did the kid's head jerk up in Logan's direction, his body going completely still. The boy, and it was definitely a boy the closer Logan got (though the curls had baffled him), looked ready to bolt with any wrong move. Logan held his hands in the universal _it's okay, don't shoot_ gesture, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. He knew this was a difficult task due to his 6'2'' stature, buff form, dark clothes, and the smell of beer wafting off of him. He practically raised every alarm that told kids to _get-the-hell-outta-dodge_, without even trying.

Logan made the abrupt decision to quit his forward approach, leaving about five feet between him and the kid. Now that he could get a good look at the kid he found himself noticing a few things that made his sloppy rescue attempt all the more needed.

For one thing, the kid wasn't hungry, he was _starving_. The pathetic excuse for clothes he was wearing shamelessly showcased two sets of ribs—an obvious sign of malnourishment. Further inspection showed pale skin, which had been scarred more than a few times, and what looked like a giant gash on the left side of his head.

His head brought on the next subject of notice.

On his face, and this was _very_ important, was what looked like, for all intense and purposes, a bear trap. It was platinum silver, covering the entire area between the top of the chin to just under the nose. The top and bottom were rimmed with small sharp edged that resembled shark teeth, the only hole the contraption possessed was a small slit where the boy's mouth was. The purpose of the mechanism was clear:

**Keep the victims mouth closed**

Except that would kill him, which was clearly not the goal seeing as there was an opening that left just enough room to fit small bits of food to keep him alive.

Even though this bit of information was a hard pill to swallow upon finding a starving child, the last bit of observation beat it on the scale of insanity, but only by a peg.

The child was between the ages of four and five with bright carrot-red hair, and freckles that peppered his what-had-once-been chubby face. Logan recognized his face the instance he was close enough to map it out, and it wasn't a feeling of familiar recognition like from his past.

No.

This recognition was _very_ present, and brought on the _very_ real feeling of irony — irony because Logan was a hundred percent sure he was looking into the face of the very _late_ Sean Cassidy.

* * *

**So I did a bit of researching to get the feel of Ireland, but not too much. This is a fanfic not a novel, Tobi's facts have to be believable. Not hard core truth.**

**Phrase: An Aul git (Irish term used to describe someone who isn't very nice)**

**Hope the accent came across. If there are any Irish out there who can help it would be much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! Excited about the new chapter? Tobi hopes so ^^ !**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I have no rights to the X-men franchise. If only I did...**

* * *

Logan eyed the child, looking him over one more time, deciding the first thing to do. The mouthpiece had to go, but in order to do that Logan had to get the boy to trust him, especially since twelve-inch adamantium claws were likely to be used somewhere down the line. _Yeah, bet those'll get the kid to like me_.With his hands still in the 'I surrender' position, Logan slowly crouched down to become eye-level with Sean.

"Look kid, I'm not here to hurt ya—I just wanna help."

Sean began to slowly back up, clearly stating he believed otherwise. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for an opening. The boy's body trembled, the smell of fear it emitted piercing the larger male's nose.

Logan needed to do ...something, fast, before the boy bolted. Thinking fast, Logan reached into his pocket. This was obviously the wrong move because Sean looked panic stricken and tried to take off.

Logan mentally cursed at himself. With his lightning fast reflexes, the Wolverine grabbed the kid before he could get away.

The boy promptly began to kick and squirm, making small distressed noises. But due to the gadget around his mouth, if he had been in any real danger, no one would have heard his poor attempts at calls of distress. That thought didn't sit well with the mutant.

Logan attempted to calm him down, but to no avail; the kid was desperately trying to get away. Desperate, Logan hastily pulled out the candy bar he had previously been digging for. "Look, candy? Do you want candy?"

Nothing, no response other than scratching and biting as the kid attempted to free himself, seriously believing he was danger. God bless him.

After a few more kicks, punches, and wild movements, Logan decided he'd never look at parents the same way again. They have to deal with _this_ every day, and they _enjoy_ it? The mutant was quickly finding out he was not parent material. Finally getting fed up, Logan grabbed Sean by his shoulders and shook him—_gently_—to grab his attention.

"Kid! Kid! Kid! _Sean, stop it!_"

And just like that the boy stopped, wide, grey-blue eyes staring at him in shock. Huh. Taking the opportunity, Logan set the boy down and held the candy bar from earlier in his face, offering it again. In seconds it was unwrapped and broken into small bite-size pieces and, even faster than that, they were down the boy's throat. The recluse's earlier feelings of protectiveness stirred at the sight. Yes, this boy needed his help.

After licking his finger dry and deciding there was nothing left to be gained from them, Sean turned his attention back to Logan. "Ow…ow…no…nane?"

The voice was raspy from a long period of disuse, and the bear trap was plainly difficult to speak through, Logan barely deciphering _'how do you know my name?'_. But at least he wasn't screaming, or at least his pitiful version of it.

Logan sighed wearily. Now they were getting somewhere. "Cause yer famous, kid," Logan answered slowly and gave a small tentative smile, taking extra measure not to scare the boy, hoping that a little joking would ease the tension. Sean didn't seem to be smiling, which would be hard to tell anyways with the contraption on his head, but he didn't seem like he was going to take off anytime soon either. Great. Progress.

_Maybe now we can get that thing off his face_.

Logan looked at the child, mentally trying to gauge his reaction for what he was about to ask. Sean was watching him with a bit of uncertainty, likely wondering what the stranger wanted. It cemented the idea that the next order of business had to be some sort of an explanation.

Logan carefully got down on one knee, and looked the boy in the eye, trying his damnedest to seem friendly. "Now I'm goin' to ask ya a question. Is that okay?"

The redhead still seemed to be wary of him, his eyes studying him as he considered the question. After a moment he nodded his head yes.

So far so good.

"Will ya promise to be honest?"

Again the boy nodded, albeit slower this time.

Logan sighed inwardly, _now for the kicker_. "Does this," Logan lifted his left index finger and raised it to his face and tapped his jaw. "Does it hurt?"

Sean visibly shrunk, his shoulders hunched as he stirred his foot and shrugged, almost as if he was ashamed of his answer. "…son…tines…"

_Sometimes?_

Logan bit his tongue. The thing clearly caused the child discomfort a lot more than _sometimes_, but no need getting upset about it; it would only freak the kid out.

"Do…do ya want it off?" The mutant was slow and deliberate with his words, making sure that the child understood it was his choice and that he wasn't about to be forced into anything.

Well, he'd let him _think_ that. The thing was coming off come hell or high water.

Sean hung his head, his attention thoroughly invested in the bits of trash littered at his feet, his shame having increased with the last question. "…ye…yesss…"

Logan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He could do this, but he needed to explain something to him first. "Sean, look at me, kid."

Sean looked up at Logan, shame still present.

"I can take it off yer head if that's whatcha really want."

Sean's head snapped to full attention, amazement etched on his face. "Ye…take…oghh?"

Logan nodded.

The gap that existed between the two of them began to gradually close as the little Irish boy moved towards the older man, eventually ending with the child standing mere inches from Logan's face. Sean raised his impish hands to his mouth brace, closing his itsy fingers around the steel metal, and looked up; his gaze centered on the set of honey browns eyes watching him.

"...Oogghh…l…leese…"

Logan scoffed a laugh, the kid had said _please_.

"Course, kid, but there's somethin' ya need to know before I do that."

The Cassidy boy tilted his head slightly to the right, clearly asking the question he couldn't say. Logan taking the invitation, delicately grabbed Sean's left hand and placed it on his own right one, he gingerly pressed the boy's hand hard enough for him to feel the bone beneath his rough skin.

"Feel that?"

Sean nodded. "….aarrdd…"

Logan smirked. "Yeah, kid, very hard. Ya see my bones are made a' metal."

"Etal?" The surprise in Sean's voice was evident, his eyes widening in slight surprise.

It was odd having his claws thought of as something special, especially after people have hated or feared him for it. But it wasn't a bad kind of odd, in fact he felt slightly privileged. Something he hasn't had the chance of experiencing quite too often.

"Yup, and I can make 'em come out too."

"…earlly?"

"Really, really." To prove his point Logan slowly extended the claw between his index and middle finger, keeping his eyes on Sean and gauging his reaction. The boy seemed to be spellbound, awe illuminating his face while he watched the metallic blade surge forward. It crept steadily like a snake slithering from its hole before fully exerting itself, all twelve-inches.

The fear that Logan had been expecting never appeared, and he was mildly surprised by this. Even if the boy was only four years old, pointy sharp things should send off an instinctive alarm to warn the boy away from danger, but the boy was transfixed. Sean reached to touch it, but Logan stopped him.

"No Sean, it's too sharp. It'll hurt ya." Sean seemed to consider this before looking at the silver talon and then back at Logan.

"…ogh?"

Logan smiled, the kid was smart. "Yeah, I'm gonna use this to get that thing off yer face, but don't worry. I ain't gonna hurt ya." And to Sean's credit, he believed him. _Huh, must be desperate to get it off_.

Suggestion: Logan decided to use this lull in fear to hurry up and get the job done before the kid realized the danger he was in, or at least would be if the older man didn't know what he was doing. He lowered his other leg so that he was on both his knees and using his right hand he placed a firm but gentle grip on the boy's right shoulder to steady him.

"Now whatever ya do, _don't_ move, 'kay? I'll be quick, promise."

Sean nodded.

The clawed mutant retracted his claw a little to shorten the length of the blade. "Now turn around." The redhead complied and turned his back to Logan, who had concluded the best way to handle this was to cut it from the back that way it wouldn't get caught around the munchkin's neck.

"Alright, here we go."

As Logan promised, it was over swiftly, the mutant using one quick slice and cutting the back of it in half. The mouth trap fell forward away from Sean's face, landing a few inches from his tiny feet. The boy stared at the heap up metal for a long moment before reaching down and picking it up. He turned to face Logan who had been watching him from behind; there was a small moment where the two just watched each other.

A smile sprouted from the redhead's face as he held up the contraption. "Off!"

Logan sighed in content, a tender smile of his own making an appearance. "Sure is, kiddo, and ya were very good 'bout not movin' like I told ya." The fierce, feared Wolverine... ruffled the carrot, curled hair. "That gets ya a treat."

The boy giggled with the small display of affection, but soon stopped, grabbing onto the older man's wrist at the word treat. "Treat?"

Logan gave a soft chuckle as he pulled out a second candy bar. Originally, he had bought them to snack on, but apparently they had a higher purpose. Sean's eyes lit up like the night sky as he snatched the bar, ripping it open to tear it into small pieces.

Old habits die hard.

The little Irish man shoved fistfuls of the candy bits into his mouth, and Logan grabbed his hand. "Hey tyke, slow yer roll. Nobody's gonna take it from ya." Sean looked down at his hand then back up at Logan before giving a promising smile.

"Kay." Sean then slowly finished his snack.

A tiny feeling of pride swirled in Logan's stomach, _He's a good listener_. The mutant watched as the boy childishly licked his hand; the kid was darn cute, reminding the elder of a little leprechaun what with his red hair and tiny body. Logan laughed inwardly. The boy was probably too small to even be considered a leprechaun—he would be impish in comparison.

_Heh_, imp_. I like it_.

Logan came out of his thoughts to notice Sean yawn tiredly and then wrap his arms around himself to stave off the cold. In that moment reality set in like dried cement. As of right now, Logan was responsible for the child.

A seed of doubt settled into the back of the mutant's mind and took root. He couldn't care for a kid! He could barely leave a bar without getting into a fight, so how was he going to take responsibility for a _child_?! He had his own agenda to tend to, namely catching that cloaked figure and beating every goddamn bit of information he could get out of it.

Logan felt something wrap around his leg. When he looked down, Sean had both arms... around his right leg, his impish fingers curling into his pants leg as he blocked his head from the chill, cutting wind. The mutant's heart squeezed.

Right.

Taking off his jacket, Logan placed it on the boy before picking him up and heading in the direction of the Inn he was currently residing at. No use in worrying about responsibility, right now he had to get the boy somewhere warm—he sniffed—and possibly a bath.

Sean curled neatly into the crook of Logan's arm, his breath already beginning to even out. "Thanks mister," escaped his lips.

Logan smirked as he readjusted his hold on the child to make him comfortable and secure. "It's Logan."

Sean yawned. "Thanks Logan."

Then sleep took him. A gentle smile pulled at Logan's lips, the imp's sleeping form causing something to stir within him. "Maybe I'll give ya a bath in the mornin'." And with that he continued for the hotel.

XX_XX

Moments after their departure there was a rustle in the trees. The leaves tossed and swung, a message clinging to their branches. The message wisped and swirled before coiling itself into the bark, slowly spiraling to the roots of the trees. It slithered its way from them into the soil before worming its way into the roots of the grass, and the grass itself began to sway back and forth, creating a wave. The message wiggled to the surface of the grass and surfed the wave it created across the forest floor, the chilly wind helping speed it along.

In minutes an immense, stone mansion came into view, the message raced to the wall covered in forest-green ivy. It quickly spiraled down back into the roots of the grass, into the soil, and into the ivy roots and twisted upwards. It darted into many separate ivy roots, hurrying it's way along until it came to a root that led into a window. The window, which was closed, had a small hole cut into its glass just big enough for an ivy root to grow through. The ivy root grew down the wall, across a pebble-stoned floor, up the leg of a nearby wooden table, and into an orange, clay-baked pot containing a single flower. The message slid through this root right into the pot; it curled out of the ivory root and into the root of the flower. The flower, which had been closed, opened to reveal bright red petals and a sun-yellow center. The flower waited, ready to relay the message.

After a few moments the door to the room opened, yellow light pouring in to the room which had only been lit by the full moon through the window. A tall, lean, mass stepped into the room, its silhouette casted on the floor in front of the dark outline at the door. It turned its head and faced the open flower.

"Ah…so it is done then?"

A distinctly male voice erupted from the mass, its Irish accent light but noticeable. The lean frame began its trek across the room and over to the pot. As it got closer, the moonlight from outside gradually exposed the dark form. His black suede shoes appeared first, before the light steadily lifted. It passed an expensive pair of navy blue pants, before stopping as it reached the table just below the chest, which was donned in a silk black button up shirt. Two pale arms lay at the sides, their hands sitting in navy-blue pockets, before one lifted smoothly from its resting place and and exposed a slender finger that languidly reached for the plant.

"Let's have it then."

The finger delicately touched the flower's yellow center and the message surged through the digit, buried into the nervous system, and shot to the brain—the finger moved slightly.

"Oh."

A bright grin crawled onto the face of the partly obscure figure, his pearly white teeth becoming visible. "Well this _is_ interesting…hmmm." There was a moment of silence as the mass pondered over this new development, a wicked smirk curving into the corners of his mouth as an idea struck him. "Yes, this could work…"

The finger placed itself back on the flower. "Keep an eye on 'em for me, won't ye, Clover?"

The pale digit was removed once again, but this time returned to the deep pocket it had been lounging in. Clover closed her petals, bowing forward before leaving the pot and exiting out the ivy root through the window.

A smile returned to the dark stature. "There's a good lass."

The shaded character stared out the window, before sauntering out the door with a slight look to the empty vessel in the pot. Going through the open door, the shadows swallowed him up as he left the light of the moon. As he reached the door, the mass took a short pause, and then just as quickly continued through the door, closing it behind him. A resounding _click_ of the locked door echoed in the dark and vacant area, it's only resident being a sleeping pod sitting on the single wooden table in the room by the window, lit by the moon in the otherwise darkened room.

XX_XX

Logan pulled the sheets up to rest just below the sleeping form's neck. The boy turned on his side and curled into the warmth of the bed. The adult of the room sighed exasperatedly before falling into a wooden chair and running his hands over his face.

"I'm in a fix." He said aloud to himself, the statement certifying that he was in a difficult situation.

And he was.

He was millions of miles away from home, chasing a scent in a foreign country; all he had was just enough money for him to eat and pay for rooming. And all those things were just fine with him. He's been living like this for twenty years now—just getting up and heading wherever the wind took him; catching rides, hopping trains, doing odd jobs to earn a quick buck in order to eat or any other necessity that requires money. No worries.

It was the child currently sleeping in the only bed in the single room that turned things on its heels.

Logan got up, walking over to the mini fridge to pull out a bottle of bear. Popping the lid clean off, he returned to his seat. He took a swig before giving a grunt of satisfaction. It seemed even the cold bottle of beer was pretty damn good. Taking another drink, he sat the bottle down on the table next to him, before running his hand through his hair. His focus went back to the curly, red hair sprawled on the pillow.

What to do?

The obvious thing to do was to turn the boy over to the authorities, explain what happened, and then leave it the hell alone. Except that's not how it would happen, it wasn't how the _modern_ world worked. He would be glorified as a hero, "Oh savior, of the Cassidy heir!" And he really hated being idolized, especially since he'd done nothing to deserve it. There would be questions, people would want interviews, which meant he wouldn't get a moment of peace until he was out of Ireland, maybe even out of the UK; the story was likely big enough to be nationwide.

Great. Just what he needed, his face all over British television.

Then again, he could be played as the villain. He really could, with what he looked like.

What are the odds that out of the millions of resident Irish men, an American who was just traipsing the globe for no apparent reason (because he'll be damned if he explains about the scent, wouldn't _that_ be a fun discussion) would just so happen to find the late Cassidy heir alive and well… Well maybe not _well_, but alive. It sounded suspicious even to him. So what else could he do?

_Ya could take 'em in_.

Where the hell did that idea come from? The thought was discarded as quickly as it came, the identity of its origin a mystery to the mutant.

Logan gave an inward snort. It sounded like the beginning of a crappy joke.

_So Logan walks in from the woods after adopting a child_…

Just how insane was he supposed to be in order to even think about taking in a kid he just met last night? Not to mention it would be kidnapping seeing as nobody with a brain would let him walk away with a kid, especially not the heir to the Cassidy fortune. People would have to be right crazy! He wasn't fit for that; he didn't even have a place he called home, so how was he to raise child? Did he even want to?

Logan let out a long, frustrated, sigh before downing the rest of his beer and then tossing it in the trash, his hand running over his face and through his hair again. He needed rest. He'd think about it in the morning after he gave the kid a much needed bath.

The exhausted mutant turned out the light before settling into a spot on the floor, knowing that by morning he was going to be hurting. Logan shifted a few times, trying to find a good spot and failed miserably. _Yup_, he thought. _Next time I'm getting the double vacancy_.

* * *

**Okay! Second chapter down! Yeah! Go Tobi! Well Tobi actually is still working on the fourth chapter so really he has three done...but you guys know this. What you don't know is that Tobi is pulling teeth to get the fourth finished. School started and now Tobi is going to have a hard time finding time...**

**Encouragement would be nice...?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! I know, I finally uploaded chapter 3, but my beta was busy and I was busy with classes. And i'm still not done writting chapter four. I plan on working on it the rest of this weekend and Monday since I don't have class that day, and will hopefully be turning in to my beta by Tuesday at the latest.**

**Now enjoy!**

* * *

_Logan was free falling into a pitch black nothing, a sense of panic-stricken doom escalated as he fell nearer and nearer to…to _it_. The feeling clawed and scratched his nerves, pumping his heart faster and faster until it's pounding rang through his eardrums._

_He's had this feeling before, he aware of what was happening. He was going to have a nightmare. He always knew when he was going to have a nightmare; problem was he couldn't stop it. Never could._

_And then the abyss closed in on him._

_There was water everywhere, and noises. Noises—was it beeping? It was getting so loud and there was pain, _god,_ so much pain! Needles and scalpels—they were in his body! _Hisbody!_ The beeping was getting worse and—_

**Burn!**

_The pain was burning, he was burning, was too much pain to concentrate, but what was he concentrating on?_

_Red hair. Soft._

_Girl? Yes, a girl, and she was—_

**Gone**_.._ _She was gone and he_—

Anger. _ He was angry and that's why he had to—_

God it hurt!_ Why him? It hurt so much he wanted it to stop!_

_The beeping was so loud! He couldn't hear anything but the goddamn beeping!_

_It needed to stop, everything needed to stop.…stop. Stop. Stop! STOP!_

"AAAARRRRGGGHHH!"

Logan shot straight up, his claws extended to meet the threat from his dream, a ravenous growl escaping his throat, ready to attack. But he woke only to find that the enemy hadn't followed him here, the nightmare was over.

But there _was_ someone standing in front of him, silver claws inches away from their freckled cheeks, as cloudy-blue eyes stared at him; watching.

Logan instinctively retracted the weapons, his breath coming out in gasps, his fear from earlier progressively waning at the loss of danger. It returned when he realized how close Sean had been to it. Enough to the point that if the kid had been an _inch_ closer, he would have been dead. The imp didn't seem to realize it though.

"Whatddaya doin' up, kid?" Logan breathed a little testily, anger pooling in his stomach at how close he'd come to killing the poor boy. "Yer suppose' to be in bed."

Sean cocked his head slightly to the left, his gaze studying Logan a moment. There was a look of uncertainty before he quickly set himself in the other's lap and wrapped his arms around the elder's waist, laying his head on Logan's chest. "I had a nightmare too," he stated softly. No accusations, no fear or anger, just simple fact. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

An emotion Logan couldn't name completely washed over him, the aftershock from his nightmare evaporating instantly. Without even thinking, Logan wrapped one of his large arms around the tiny body and gave a gentle squeeze, using his free hand to gingerly run through the mop of red curls on the boys head. Logan has never held a child before, never comforted one, never _been_ comforted by one, but what they were doing seemed to come to them like it was second nature—instinct.

No words were shared between them. The two just sat on the floor holding onto one another, the other's presence casting away the demons from their dreams. Minutes passed this way. There were no sounds, just their silent thoughts, mellowed breathing, and the soft _thump_, _thump_ of the mutant's heart beating against Sean's ear, quietly lulling him to sleep.

Logan sat with his head laid against the foot of the bed, his fingers listlessly stroking through the child's hair, and his body relaxed with an embracive calm that had settled over him. The boy seemed to be a human balm for him, smoothing his constant surge of emotions, letting him just breath.

How long had it been since he had done that?

He's had a few moments here and there, the experience something that only came to him sparingly due to his turbulent lifestyle. A trip through the woods, a quiet evening alone, the few quiet moments of tender kisses after sharing a bed with a partner…

But there was something different about it this time.

The others were short lived. They were tranquil, a sense of fulfillment that settled an agitated soul, a break from the rest of life. A pause if you will, recuperation for the mind before the problems that you were trying to escape returned. The next moment, it was all gone, and the feeling only lived in the past, memories.

But _This_.

This would never go away.

The world could evaporate into nothing and Logan would still have this moment. The feeling would swell and completely envelop him in _that_ moment. Not in his memory, but in that moment—in _that_ present. Like he could go anywhere and the sense would never leave. It felt like, like...

Like home.

The mutant looked down at the imp asleep in his lap, and a sigh of content fell from his mouth. So that's what it felt like. He's never really had a good impression of what _home_ was exactly. At first, during the first few week he'd woken up, he thought home meant the place you eat and slept in, but then he'd heard people saying "home is where the heart is" and he had understood the implications then, but now he _knew_.

His gnarled hand moved to the boy's back, tenderly massaging Sean's spine.

Too bad he'd have to give it up soon. _That's okay_, Logan thought, sleep nipping at his consciousness. _At least I had it_. There was a pinch of regret attached to the thought, but Logan shrugged in off. Not much he could otherwise, he's lived his life in solitude and probably will continue do so during its course.

The mutant then settled into his spot on the floor, his eyes steadily closing as his breath evened out, and he too succumbed to sleep.

Logan woke the next morning to sunlight peeking through the drawn curtain, nudging at his eyelids to open. Upon doing so, the mutant sat up and stretched to find he had a slightly sore back; god bless his heal factor because it could have been worse judging by the odd position he'd awoke in. Logan looked down at his lap, having noticed a considerable lack of heaviness down there, and did not find the boy that should have been there.

Getting to his feet, Logan surveyed the room in search of Sean. His eyes spotted the bathroom door open just as said boy came out, the sound of loud flushing marking his exit.

Sean looked up at Logan wide awake. "Morning."

"Morin'." Logan placed his hands on hips. "How long ya been up, imp?"

The boy scratched the back of his neck while giving a small shrug. "…A few minutes." Sean's hand moved up from his neck to his twisty, red curls, giving a good scratch.

Logan raised an eyebrow concerned. "Itchy?"

Sean nodded as his free hand disappeared into his hair to assist the other one, his fingers scraping vigorously.

Logan walked over to him to check over his hair. There were a lot of dirt spots, and sore marks from where he had been previously scratching. The dirt ran down his neck and disappeared down his shirt, random spots of black caked on his body, and the odd assortment of bruises and cuts that covered his form. The boy was filthy and possibly infected.

_Yeah_, Logan mentally assessed, _it's bout time fer that bath_.

"How 'bout I give ya a bath? It'll help the itching'."

Sean gave a slow, unsure, nod. It been a while since he'd bathed.

"Good, I'll go run the water." The mutant entered the bathroom and began to get the boy's bath started. After getting the tub filled to a decent height and pouring in a little soap to give the kid some bubbles, a thought struck him. The imp didn't have any clean clothes to wear and the ones he already had on were too old and worn to consider washing. Hmm…he'd have to let the kid wear one of his shirts till he could go shopping for him, which he decided he'd do promptly after the boy was clean and dressed.

Logan left the bathroom to go retrieve the boy and found him sitting on the wood chair by the desk. Recalling last night and how "pleasing" the seat had been, Logan ushered him off.

"Don't sit in that thing kid it'll take your bum off, sit on the bed next time." His eyes moved over to the bed in indication, where he noted that the bed was slightly helter-skelter. Someone had evidently tried to make it up and failed miserably.

The mutant raised another eyebrow in slight amusment. "You do realize that the pillows go at the _head_ of the bed and not the middle, right?"

Sean, who seemed to visibly shrink when Logan started talking about the bed, now looked like he was going to cry, fresh unshed tears pricking his eyes.

A choked "I'm sorry," escaped his mouth.

Logan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout? You didn't do anything wrong."

Sean shook his head vigorously in disagreement, tears beginning to fall down his face. "Yes, I did."

Thoroughly confused, Logan looked between the boy and the bed a couple of times before heading over to the latter, Sean made an attempt to graps the others arms to derail him, but Logan was too quick. He removed the sheets and pillows; the bed was a haphazard mess. There was feathers thrown all over, tears and scratches ran rampant over the mattress, in its center there was an unmistakably huge, gaping hole. The bed was marginally bent inwards from both ends, barely standing on its foundation.

Well that explained the pillows.

Logan turned to ask him when and how this happened when something quickly flashed through his mind, a memory from last night.

"_I had a nightmare too."_

Sean had said that last night after almost nearly being sliced to pieces. His evident disregard for his life had angered Logan that he hadn't noticed that Sean _had_ been scared, just not the way Logan thought he should have been.

The man turned his head back towards Sean. The boy had started to sob after Logan removed the sheets from the bed and had now curled himself into a ball on the wooden seat, his head in his knees.

And now Logan found himself in a predicament, because he is not suited for this. He is not cut out for _this_.

Logan shifted uneasily for a moment, putting his attention anywhere but on the kid. What to do, what to do, what to do? "Don't…don't cry."

The sobs continued. The mutant asked himself, not for the first time, how he got himself into this. He tried the boys attention again. "Sean."

Nothing. This was getting frustrating.

"Sean, look at me, kid."

The boy shook his head that was still placed in his lap.

Logan sighed and tried again a little more firmly, his tone inferring little patience. "_Sean_."

The child's shoulders visibly locked, but he gradually lifted his head. His eyes were red, already sore from tears. "…You hate me now."

The raven-haired man let out a snort of shock. Where had that come from?

Logan shook his head. "No, I don't. I just metcha."

Sean shook his head again, certain that Logan hated him. He parents most certainly had. "I broke the bed…" His head returned to his knees and Logan heard a muffled sniff. "…I was bad…"

Logan looked about before taking a tentative step closer to boy, too afraid to get too close and feeling too awkward to stay where he was. He let out a breath in uneasiness, seriously trying to find out what he was supposed to do here.

He figured starting with the truth wouldn't hurt. "Ya weren't bad, Sean, ya had n' accident. S'all right." Logan looked back at the bed then back to the boy. "But I would like to know what happened."

Sean brought his face up to stare at Logan's. "…You'll be angry at me…"

Logan slowly closed the distance between them; his lack of confidence penetrated the room as he got on eye level with Sean. He took a breath before looking the kid in the eye. "I won't be angry, imp, just tell me."

A small look of hope filtered through the Cassidy's eyes. "…P-Promise?" It sounded nearly desperate.

Logan gave a small hesitant smile. "Promise."

If it was possible, Sean pulled himself in closer and rested his chin on his knees, and a soft whisper tinged with fear and uncertainty fell from his cherub lips.

"…I screamed," he said, as if he just admitted to killing someone.

Logan had a sinking suspicion that his screaming was drastically more than your average child shrieking. He worded his next question delicately. "Is that why ya had that thing on yer face?"

Sean gave a meager nod.

"…So ya…_couldn't_ scream."

Another small nod.

The Wolverine had guessed that the boy was a mutant, the mouthpiece having been a significant clue, though last night had confirmed it. Logan recalled that he had heard some noises in his dream, beeping of some sort, but now he was sure it had actually been the boy, distressed with his own nightmare. After waking up, the boy had checked on Logan to see if he was okay, which made sense since the mutant tended to make a few noises himself during his dreams. The kid was sweet, which begged the question.

_Who would be sick enough to put that thing on his face?_

Who knows how long he had been wearing it. If someone put it on him, what else did they do? It was damn wrong.

Pulling Sean from his spot in the chair, Logan swallowed him in a tight, compassionate embrace, his fingers threading through the boy's hair again; the protective instinct resurfacing. "I'm so sorry."

Sean didn't say anything. He just wrapped himself further into Logan's grip and sobbed.

That little boy cried his eyes out.

All the while Logan just rocked him, doing his best, which wasn't much considering his lack of experience, to sooth the small child as the tears fell. Thankfully it didn't go on for long, and Sean stopped whimpering. "Ya okay now?" The elder felt the boy nod in his chest. "Ya wanna take that bath now? Getcha cleaned up?"

"Yeah…" It was a broken reply, the voice raspy.

"Alright, I think the tub's still warm." Logan stood and headed to the bathroom, Sean still in his arms. After disrobing the boy and setting him in the tub, Logan began to wash him, making sure to clean the cuts and the gash on the side of the boy's head. The soap stung a bit, but Sean didn't complain much, only flinching when something hurt. Logan moving on to the boys hair, which wasn't seriously matted, but there were a few kinks that he carefully worked through using the shampoo that he brought with him since the Inn didn't seem to offer any. Sean flinched a lot during this process, likely due to the sores from scratching so hard, but there was nothing to be done about that; they would eventually heal.

Logan repeated the process three times before he deemed the boy's hair clean. When he was done, the older mutant dried the boy off and let the filthy, black water drain from the tub; it surprised him how filthy the kid had been. How long had he been living like that?

Finding one of his plain white T-shirts, Logan pulled it over the boy's head. Sean looked like a white monk since the shirt worked like an oversized dress, draping over his feet and hands. Logan rolled the sleeves up and tied the bottom so the boy could use his legs; now the boy just looked homeless.

It would have to do.

"Logan?" Sean was looking up at him, his tiny fingers pulling at the shirt collar and trying to get it adjusted.

"Yeah, imp?"

"I'm hungry."

Logan mentally smacked himself.

"Okay, stay here fer a sec and I'll go n' see if this place serves breakfast."

Sean nodded in response, standing where he was. "Okay."

Logan quickly went to the front desk and was blessed to find that the Inn _did_ serve breakfast, even though it was nearly over with. After getting direction on the location of the dining area, he speedily went through the few options left, consisting of some muffins, cereal, fruit, and a couple selections of fruit juices. Gathering the menial breakfast together and setting it on a tray, Logan hurried back to the kid.

Sean was seated on the bed near its head, trying to not make it cave in.

Right… He'd have to pay for that. He grimaced.

"Here ya go, kid." Logan set Sean up to eat at the desk. "Now when yer done just put everything on the tray and I'll clean it when I get back, 'kay, pal?"

Sean nodded before asking where he was going, he grey-blue eyes lighted with mirth, happy to be having food again so quickly. A childish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. The boy was darn cute.

"To get ya some clothes, be back soon." He ruffled the tyke's hair and kissed his forehead and then stopped.

…Did he just…?

He didn't even think, he just did it.

Kissing him goodbye seemed so right and natural—like he'd been doing this for years, but he hadn't. Never. He doesn't even think he had before he lost all his memories.

But it was so easy.

It wasn't supposed to be easy.

It should be strange for him to have this child sharing space with him, living with him after only meeting last night. It should be weird that it only took that night for him to start putting the abandoned orphan's needs above his own, was that even a conscious decision? He didn't know, but he does know that right now _he_ needed food, which he had money for, but he was about to go spend it on clothes for the _kid_. It should bother him that he has to spend the money he was using for his manhunt on someone else, but it didn't—not even in the least. It should feel awkward to want to hold the child, comfort him, protect him….to—

He should not care so much this quickly—not after a single night. It shouldn't be that easy, but it _was_. And Sean would have to go. He couldn't keep him, and that fact definitely **should not** have bothered him at all.

Sean, on the other hand, didn't skip a beat. "Kay, miss you," was all he said before turning his attention on the quaint breakfast, promptly cutting everything into small pieces, and then consuming them slowly. There was obviously nothing amiss to him.

"Miss you too, imp."

How did he get attached so fast?

Using both his hands, Logan ruffled the red curls before heading out of the Inn.

XX_XX

As he left the building and headed down the road to the nearest clothing store, a nearby patch of grass shifted in the breeze, rustling…

XX_XX

The search took longer than necessary, but only because Logan—who is typically a _god_ when it comes to finding his way around—was too stubborn to ask for directions. Call him a typical male, but it seriously took a shot at his pride when he had to ask where to find things. At any rate he found a clothing store, and without asking for directions thank you very much.

The store was quaint. It was located on the corner of a strip market, its size making it very easy to look over if not for the large multicolored logo atop the roof outside:

**Tots N' Snot:** _Your one stop shop for all things toddlers_

Unimpressed with the name, Logan strolled into the store, his eyes roaming over the interior. Clothes were lined from the back of the building to the front on short silver racks, and on the walls were an assortment of different shoes of several different styles. At the front were little isles with toys littered on them, while at the back the same isles were lined with necessities such as diapers, wipes, and sippy-cups. The store used all the space available for its products, but Logan would bet that if he could think of anything that a child would need he could find it here. It was quaint, and maybe slightly overwhelming, but nice.

Logan mentally did a run-through of what the kid would need, how much it would cost, and how much he had to spend. So far he gathered that he'd buy one decent outfit consisting of a shirt, pants, underwear, socks, and a pair of shoes. He didn't know how much that usually cost in American dollars, let alone in euros, but he had 287 of the latter sitting in his wallet. Surely it wouldn't cost too much.

Now, he faltered, where to start?

As if answering the silent question, a female clerk approached Logan. "Can I help ye?"

She was, in all honesty, very plain. Her looks amounted to a mousy brown bob, muddy brown eyes, and a square shaped forehead, although this fact was mostly hidden by the style she wore her hair in. The lady was short, maybe 5"5, but despite this her body was long and slender, and her skin was sheet white.

With all that being said, her bright smile seemed to complement everything about her, bringing all her flaws together into one seamless portrait and giving her an _almost _beauty kind of touch.

Logan placed his hand on his hips, something he found himself doing in awkward situations. "Um…yeah, I need to buy an outfit fer…fer a four-year-old." The mutant began to wonder if he could pull this off without sounding real suspicious.

"Oh how sweet! Are ye a da?" She asked, her smile beaming, the smell of peaked attraction drifting from her.

Logan was a humble guy, but he did know that his size, muscle, and rough looks seemed to have a certain appeal to women, something he quit questioning after a while. He was by no means a pretty boy, but handsome wasn't that far out of the equation either.

"Yeah, but I'm not too savvy with buyin' stuff fer the kid."

The woman laughed, her attraction rising at the idea of a clueless father. "Yes, I get many lads in here with the same problem. I can help."

"Thanks um…"Logan took a look at her nametag, "Fiona."

Her smile brightened. "It's no trouble, it's my job. Follow me this way." The sentenced was lightly sprinkled with unnecessary sweetness.

Logan followed as she led the way. They went down the third isle of clothes, which seemed to be designated for 3-4 year olds.

"I hope ye don't mind my asking but, are ye American?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah." As far as he knew anyway.

Fiona's pheromones spiked, her evident attraction growing by the second. Logan could only imagine what a foreign dad, lost on how to buy clothes for his child, did for little Irish woman.

"I thought so." She turned her attention to the line of shirts hovering above the ground. "These are some very nice ones if ye not picky 'bout prices, but if ye are these over here are pretty decent as well." Without hesitation, she began sifting through them. "What size is 'e?"

Logan paused trying to imagine the kid in his head, he had no clue. "Uh, not real sure."

Fiona gave a knowing smile. "Let me guess, 'is ma usually does the shoppin'."

Sure. That works.

"…Uh, yeah."

She nodded, her head still lost between the racks of clothes. "Where is she?"

_Dammit!_

"She…uh…." Logan sighed. How was he supposed to explain this? Without realizing it, his actions brought the lady to come to her own conclusion. A frown spread across her face, a look of compassion entering her eyes.

"She's gone isn't she?"

It took a moment before Logan understood what she deduced on her own. Not the first thing that would have come to his head, but it worked.

Logan gave a slight nod. "Yeah…" He even attempted to look sad.

"I'm so very sorry." Her voice petered on the verge of compassion and lust, no doubt a broken man taking care of a child all by himself sent her heart a flutter.

Logan waved her off, relieved the subject was drawing to a close. "Don't worry 'bout it."

She gave a shy nod then seemed to think something over, and she looked up to voice her question. "Why didn't ye bring the laddie? It would 'ave been easier to find a better fit for 'is clothes."

_Because I didn't want the media on my ass?_

"He's sick."

"Ah, poor lad. Well, a new outfit should cheer 'em up!"

And so the search began.

It took longer that the metallic mutant had been planning on, but he realized it would have taken much longer if Fiona hadn't been there to help. She was a sweet girl, adding in her opinion and helping him find the best prices she could with the budget he had. He did flirt with her a bit as the process went along, if only to make a potentially awkward situation bearable. It wasn't heavy flirting, just the light nudging interests that tend to appear during small conversation and a few jokes. He earned a chuckle from her a couple times. The lady had a good soul; Logan would consider dating her despite the lack of physical appeal, and she did have a pretty laugh.

"There, I believe ye 'ave one good complete outfit."

Logan's brown eyes surveyed their findings. He had a black and yellow striped shirt, a pair of dark blue jeans, a bag of fresh, white socks, and equally white pair of sneakers, and a bag briefs since they were cheaper than boxers. Logan was satisfied. "Yeah, looks like it."

As he was checking the items Logan suddenly realized that he needed to buy the boy a jacket. It was the middle of September, so it was pretty chilly outside, the kid would need some protection. As he was looking over the selections, something caught the corner of his eye. He looked to his right to see a small, plaid, blue teddy bear with button eyes and his tongue sticking out. Its head was a little too big for its body, indicated by the way it leaned sideways as its head was too heavy to support. Logan walked over to it and picked it up. The thing literally sat in the palm of his hand, it was very dopey looking.

He knew Sean would love it.

"Like it?" Fiona came from behind him, an endearing smile on her face as she watched the bear in his hands.

Logan sighed. "Yeah, but I need the jacket and I can't go spendin' money willy-nilly. I need to save most of it."

"I can make ye a deal. If ye purchase the Jacket and donate one euro to the children's hospital nearby, I'll throw in the bear."

Logan could tell this woman had a big heart. She had been nothing but help since he walked in. Granted it may have a little to do with her small crush, but he's pretty sure she works this hard helping people all the time. It seems like something she likes to do. He would definitely consider dating her.

"Ya got yerself a deal."

Soon he was out the store with a complete outfit, including a jacket and a toy for the kid.

He began his trek back to the inn. Logan looked at his watch; it has been a good hour and thirty minutes since he left. He needed to hurry up and return to the boy, worried the tyke might be wondering where he was, but before he could pick up the pace a strong odor caught his attention.

_The_ _scent_.

Without even thinking he did a 180 and darted in the opposite direction, instinct entirely taking over.

That, and the memories.

They crashed through his skull in a barrage of images, all of them trying to grab the mutant's attention and force him focus on them only, but there were so many. Until once again, one image jumped out further than the rest.

He's not really sure where he is, but it looks like a lab of some sort. And his brother from before is there, and a woman—

_That_ woman.

"_Logan! You're not an animal."_

"_Oh, yes, yes you are. Do it. Finish it."_

_Logan then knocked his brother out. _

The scene changed immediately afterwards. A log cabin, with him and the girl, sitting on a sofa…There was a picture on the wall, the details too fuzzy to make out.

"_Do you know why the moon is so lonely?"_

"_Why?"_

"_Because she used to have a lover."_

"_You tell this to the kids?"_

"_No.__" __Logan laughed_

"_His name was Kuekuatsu and they lived in the spirit world together."_

"_Oh, this is a true story."_

"_Mm-hm. And every night they would wander the skies together, but one of the other spirits was jealous. Trickster wanted the Moon for himself, so he told Kuekuatsu that the Moon had asked for flowers; he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses. But Kuekuatsu didn't know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back. And every night he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name, but...he can never touch her again."_

"_Wow. Koo-koo-ka-choo got screwed."_

And then The flashbacks ended abruptly. His breath was haggard and he had to shake his head to rid himself of clouded after-effects. He came to in time to see that same cloak from before disappear around the corner.

Still having a firm grip on his bags, Logan took off and followed it, meeting a dead end as soon as he turned at the streets edge. When he stopped he noticed the cloaked figure standing there alone in the small alleyway with his back turned to him. Logan extended his claws, his bag dropped to the ground.

This process needed to go quickly, he needed some damn answers. "Who are you?"

There was a long breath before the figure turned, the movements slow and deliberate until they were face to face.

The man had short brown hair and deep ebony eyes. His stature was smaller than that of Logan's and his muscles leaner. Rough fingers that had clearly seen a day's labor began to pull off the cloak draped around the stranger's shoulders before tossing it on the ground in front of him. It landed at Logan's feet.

"I'm not the one ye are looking for."

Logan growled unconvinced. "Then what's with the jacket?"

The brunette smiled, his body leaning in, indulging. "I needed to speak with ye."

Logan snorted, not one for folly. "How do I know yer not _exactly_ who I'm looking for?"

The man nodded down at the coat lying at the mutant's feet. "That smell ye 'ave been chasin' is only comin' off that piece of clothin'. Sniff me, I don't match."

Logan's eyes hardened trying to see through the ruse, yet he didn't find one. He sniffed, there was no match.

"Ye sense o' smell doesn't lie, does it?"

The wolverine snorted, he really hated playing games. "Whaddaya want?"

"Like I said. I want to talk."

"Yeah? 'Bout what?" He spat each word. _Quit beatin' round the damn bush_.

The man grew a wicked smile, knowledge glinting in his eyes.

"Oh notin' much, just whoever ye bought those bags for."

Logan's stomach clenched real tight. The mutant balled his fist, a dangerous snarl etching itself on his face. "And who would that be?"

The other placed his hands in his pocket, unperturbed by the guarded stance.

"Sean Cassidy o' course."

* * *

**Okay! Whew, that's the longest chapter yet! This chapter took a lot out of me. You guys have no idea.** **Tobi was emotionally scarred...**

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you guys think of the new chapter, I really need them to help me finish chapter four. Please, just a little encouragement?**

**Oh and thanks to Rosmund Chadwick and Nick for being my first two reviewers! You guys kindle my writting fire!**

**Until next time! *waves energetically***


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